


Never Letting Go

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: Stiles is the first person that Derek has sex with since Kate. Derek is the first person that Stiles has sex with, ever. It happens during that summer researching the Alpha pack.





	Never Letting Go

Stiles is the first person that Derek has sex with since Kate. Derek is the first person that Stiles has sex with, ever. It happens during that summer researching the Alpha pack.

Derek has since moved back to the burnt out husk of his childhood home. He’s felt a strange need to protect it since he first saw the symbol on his front door. Not that there was anything to protect, which is what Stiles tells him, somehow knowing exactly why he refuses to leave. 

Derek thinks Stiles would probably be able to find the exact right words to express Derek’s feelings. 

He doesn’t ask for Stiles’ help, and he doesn’t even want it at first. But Stiles is there one day asking him a barrage of questions. Some, things Derek hadn’t considered. 

And given Stiles’ list of passwords and a key fob with neat color coded keys Derek thinks he might prove a useful resource. Except, Derek realizes somewhere along Stiles stopped coming over for the strategic meets but, to hang out. 

Because sometimes Stiles drags him places, like to the movies and laser tag. One Saturday afternoon, Derek gets shot for the umpteenth time by a neon pink paintball and asks, “Don’t you have other friends?” 

But Stiles gives him a wicked grin and shoots him again. Derek doesn’t know if Stiles is desperate for companionship, or genuinely enjoys Derek’s company. 

He doesn’t know which option he prefers.

Part of him probably clings to the idea that Scott is too preoccupied to spend time with him and his dad working a lot. Because he’s not sure how to believe someone actually wants to be around him. Willingly. 

Then one night, Derek looks up from the file he’s reading, realizing the constant annoyed mutterings and frustrated sighs have dissipated into silence. Stiles was asleep slumped over the couch where he’s been sitting on the floor all night, head buried in police reports he “acquired” and it’s best he doesn’t ask for “plausible deniability, hale.”

There are papers spread all around him on the throw rug. Stiles hauls it in one day, “I can’t walk barefoot on your splinter death floor, dude. Besides, the couch just looks ridiculously without it.” Stiles even brings in the ugliest lamp Derek has ever seen but as he looks around the room, he realizes it’s the most lived in that it’s been in a decade. 

Stiles is wearing nothing but a loose pair of cotton shorts that cling obscenely in a way that Derek resolutely ignores. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. His lips are parted softly as he sleeps. The domesticity of this tiny corner of the living room makes the rest of the derelict house around it more depressing, and pathetic. 

He wants to say it’s this reason alone that makes him open up the real estate section of the newspaper one morning. And nothing at all to do with Stiles’ falling through the porch one day. 

When Stiles sees the paper Derek’s saved, listings circled in black sharpie, Derek wonders what he’s going to think. 

“Dude, thank God. I know this is a huge deal for you, but this place is awful.”

Derek can’t argue with that. The next day, Stiles brings him several listings he thinks Derek might like. One of them he describes as “a mostly empty building with a few neighbors. It’s perfect.”

Derek admits that it is. Except, he buys the whole building instead. 

 

He notices that the loft is a lot cooler when Stiles starts to leave most of his clothes on in Derek’s presence. Derek is totally apathetic about this. Sometimes though on hot days Stiles lifts his shirt and stands in front of the fan, his scent hitting Derek full force.

The first time he does it Derek feels his cock take interest. It’s the first time in a long time and he frowns at it. 

One night, Stiles is particularly frustrated that his leads on some of Deucalion’s aliases hit dead ends. He tosses a file away violently and runs his hands through his hair. Derek watches.

“You don’t have to be here,” he says. Stiles gives him a hard, hurt look.

“Okay? If you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” and he moves to stand up.

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek says. Stiles pauses. “I just meant, in general, you don’t have to be here, helping.”

Stiles shrugs, flushing but calmer.

Derek does his best not to think about Stiles as anything other than Stiles. An indefinable unlabeled sort of thing. That facade of denial sort of crashes down around him when a woman at Target tells them they make a cute couple. Stiles beams proudly at him and says “yup!”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just pulls the sunhat off his head Stiles had put there moments before.

 

It starts when Stiles convinces Derek to take him to the county fair. Stiles agreeing to the ferris wheel even though Derek knows he’s picturing all the ways they could die. At the top when Stiles is clinging to Derek’s wrist Derek asks him why he even agreed. Stiles seems to forget how terrified he is in order to give Derek a look and glance at the non-existent space between them in the seat.

Derek knows it’s the opening he thinks he’s been waiting a few works for. 

“Should I distract you?” Derek asks, and he smiles. Stiles gives him a bemused sort of look right before Derek kisses him. Stiles makes the best whimper as he opens his mouth and kisses back. When they get back to the ground Stiles’ face is flushed and his lips are swollen and pink.

“Making out on the Ferris Wheel,” Stiles says, “I feel like a teenager again!”

“Stiles, you’re seventeen.”

“Oh damn.”

Nothing changes except sometimes they make out now. Usually during an argument, or when they’re watching a movie curled up on the couch and Stiles scratches at the underside of Derek’s chin, looking up at him, and saying ‘kiss please.”

Derek thinks he’s ridiculous but it always makes his ears go red. 

 

Stiles is all adrenaline and a sort of passion that makes him feel like a teenager, or like the years he felt broken and all those pieces of his adolescence weren’t lost. They’re kissing on the couch one night when it gets a little more heated and Stiles ends up in Derek’s lap and they rut and grind against one another for awhile. 

Derek thinks about Stiles riding him, pushes the thought away, and then Stiles down against the couch where he can get a better leverage to thrust against him. 

“Is it cool if I shove my hands down the back of your pants?” Stiles asks, breathless and heavy. “I want to touch your butt,” he clarifies.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs. “But yeah, do it,” he agrees, voice muffled against Stiles’ neck where Derek is sucking a hickey. 

That’s pretty much what sex with Stiles is like. Derek’s used to dirty talk in bed and there’s a reason he doesn’t enjoy it. But Stiles cracks jokes, and when he laughs Derek knows it’s not at his expense. 

Stiles’ hands grope his ass, and his legs are wrapped around Derek when he finally comes, spilling into his jeans. Stiles trembles beneath him, and moans his name into Derek’s ear. It brings Derek over the edge, and when he opens his eyes Stiles is staring at him with a small playful smile and a look on his face Derek doesn’t think he deserves.

 

Stiles pops open the button on Derek’s pants one night when they’re lying on his bed. Stiles watches Derek’s reaction and Derek just stares at his lips before dragging his gaze down to watch Stiles’ fingers as they pull at the zip. 

“Can I touch you?” Stiles asks, his voice is soft. Derek’s heart skips a beat.

Derek hesitates and Stiles moves his hands away. 

“This is the age thing?” Stiles asks. “Because, this last year has got to count as at least four in werewolf years.”

“Not like this,” Derek says unable to come up with any kind of retort. Stiles’ face softens and he holds Derek’s jaw gently. 

“You’re afraid I’m going to do something I don’t want to do,” Stiles says. It’s not really a question. “I’m not going to push, Derek, but for the record, I trust you. And you can tell if I’m lying.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at Stiles, like if he looks hard enough he’ll be able to figure him out. “I know you’re not lying but it’s more complicated than that,“ Derek tries. 

“I know,” Stiles tells him. Derek starts to argue, but Stiles shakes his head gently against the pillow and kisses him. “You’re not her, Derek.” Derek freezes.

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” he says finally, uncertain, heart beating hard against his chest.

“I sort of figured it out,” he says. “I’m not afraid of looking back on this and regret being with you. Just so you know.”

Derek sighs. 

“You wanna cuddle?” Stiles smiles at him and Derek’s chest tightens. 

They do, but the next time they’re in bed together Derek takes Stiles’ hand and leads it to the front of his jeans.

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, grinning.

“Yeah,” Derek confirms, laying on his back.

Stiles undoes his jeans and pulls Derek out of his boxer briefs. He shoots Derek a goofy grin, which Derek tries to roll his eyes at, but then Stiles’ grip tightens and he starts to jerk him off. 

Stiles looks at him after a moment and licks his lips, gazes back down to where his hand is moving up and down Derek’s dick. He leans forward tentatively and glances back at Derek. Derek rests a hand on Stiles’ back and nods.

Stiles moves down until he’s poised over Derek’s cock. Derek threads his hand through his lengthening hair as Stiles takes him into his mouth. Derek sighs out Stiles’ name as he sucks him off. He pulls off after awhile, mouth slicked with spit and curved up into a pleased grin. They jerk each other off, coming together with Dereks’ hand wrapped around both of them.

They get together a couple more times after that, until the end of the Summer when things fall away. They don’t break things off, really, things get hectic and school takes Stiles away and the Alpha pack forces them apart and then there’s Jennifer. 

 

When Boyd dies, Stiles finds Derek in his room one night. Hes sitting on the floor beneath the window, and Stiles sits down beside him. They don’t say anything, until Derek curls himself into Stiles who meets him halfway and pulls him in tight. He cries, and Stiles pets his hair and tells him it’s not his fault. 

Derek feels vulnerable, and a little ashamed, but Stiles is looking at him that way again that makes him feel like maybe he really isn’t to be blamed. He kisses Stiles then, with intent. 

“You sure? Because you’re in a really bad place right now,” Stiles asks licking his lips when Derek pulls back. Derek nods, pulls Stiles in, gets his tongue in his mouth. Stiles groans when Derek presses the heel of his hand against the tight front of Stiles’ jeans.

“But if this is what you need, I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and–” Stiles starts again. Derek kisses him once more long and deep, before resting his forehead against Stiles’. 

“I have no idea what I need, Stiles,” Derek tells him. “But right now, I’m positive that what I want is you.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says, breathless. Derek finds himself smiling for a moment before he gets his mouth back on his. 

Eventually, they make it to the bed, where they help strip one another. It’s the first time they’re actually naked together. Stiles flushes red everywhere under Derek’s gaze. Stiles is fucking gorgeous and he’s not sure when that happened. 

Stiles lays them back against the sheets, his scent heady around him. Derek rolls them until Stiles is on top, broad shoulders caging him. They rut together like that, slow grinds as they kiss. Derek feels Stiles’ cock press against his hole and he bites down on Stiles’ lip as he thrusts against him with a heated moan.

Stiles does it again.

Derek flips them, and Stiles just looks up curiously where he’s flushed and panting on the bed. Derek kisses Stiles before he asks, “do you have condoms?” Stiles tries to mask his reaction but his heart skips a beat and he reddens.

“Not for me,” Derek says, “for you?” 

“Oh…wait,” Stiles says, staring at him from where he’s pulled himself into a sitting position, Derek straddling his lap. “You want me to?” Stiles asks.

“If you want to,” Derek says.

“Condoms and lube R Us,” Stiles nods, reaching over to grab them from the drawer beside the bed. Derek fingers himself open. He’s never taken anything more than that, but he’s aching with a need to be filled. Derek teases Stiles’ cock over his hole before lowering himself down, Stiles cradles his jaw in his hands.

Derek rides him, eventually he has to duck his head into the crook of Stiles’ neck, away from the awestruck expression on Stiles’ face, lips parted and pink. 

Stiles comes with a groan inside him, as he shakes through his orgasm he jerks Derek off. Derek watches as he follows soon after, against Stiles’ chest and neck.

He closes his eyes with a whimper when Stiles starts to lick it off his fingers.

 

Derek doesn’t say goodbye to Stiles when he leaves with Cora. He’s too much a coward, and he’s afraid that if he sees Stiles, he won’t leave. As it is, they don’t get far before the feeling in Derek’s gut proves far worse than the normal anxiety that hangs there everyday, waiting.

He doesn’t sleep for two days, he’s barely eaten. Derek blames himself, he should have been there. He wonders if he would have been, if he hadn’t decided to leave. He feels an incomprehensible relief when Stiles is found. But when its by someone else, there’s a small, ashamed part that feels like failing him all over again.

The Sheriff installs security cameras, but most nights Derek is camped outside Stiles’ window anyway. 

 

After the Nogitsune is gone, Stiles starts spending every night with Derek. Nothing happens between them. Stiles curls up against him in bed. Sometimes Stiles tries not to cry but Derek can hear his soft sniffles. Other times, Stiles wakes from a dream and sobs into Derek’s chest, petrified and angry.

Derek much prefers the nights when Stiles lays on the couch with his head pillowed in Derek’s lap. He plays with Stiles’ hair and reads him to sleep. 

 

“Sometimes I when I wake up I’m paralyzed,” Stiles tells him one night, they’re curled up facing each other in Derek’s bed. “It always feels like it takes forever to be able to move. When I’m alone…” Stiles’s throat bobs has he swallows.

Derek moves closer. 

“The first time it happened when we were together, I woke up, started to feel that rising panic and then I realized that you were in the bed beside me and I just…stopped freaking out.”

Stiles sighs. “I feel safe with you in a way I’ve never felt with anyone before, ever, not even Scott or my dad, maybe not since my mom.” Stiles is silent for a long moment, and Derek just listens to the sound of his steady heart. “I thought about you a lot in the Void.”

Derek thinks about the small post it note where Stiles scrawled ‘Derek’ on his chess piece. King. He thinks about his anchors, first his mother and alpha, and then the anger he clung to afterwards. He remembers a time when he thought the idea of a person as anchor was the most romantic thing, the idea of trusting someone so implicitly.

Maybe the phrasing is different, but the sentiment is the same. He wonders if Stiles gets the implications, the weight of what that means.

Stiles never says anything without conviction.

Derek bumps his forehead into Stiles’ helplessly, kisses him deeply.

 

After everything that happens with Kate, Derek starts to think about leaving Beacon Hills. And then after he dies in Mexico he thinks he needs to. 

A week after Derek dies in Mexico he gets a text from Stiles: can you come over?. Derek is already halfway there before he thinks to text back. He knows rationally that Stiles has probably had another nightmare. He remembers how long it took him to calm himself down the night Stiles woke screaming his name in panic, smelling of terror, crying. But he can’t help think of all the worst case scenarios.

What he isn’t expecting when he gets there is for Stiles to be sitting not quite cross-legged in his bed, naked, smelling of anxiety and arousal. 

“You got here fast,” Stiles remarks, arms in draped in front of him. 

“I was worried,” Derek says, climbing in through the window to stand by Stiles’ bed. “Are you okay?”

Stiles heaves out a sigh and shrugs with a soft shiver, “not really. I just really wanted to see you.” Stiles flushes in the low light from the laptop screen across the room. Derek sits down on the edge of Stiles’ bed. Stiles straightens up and watches him. 

“I–I mean–I just want to be with you,” Stiles clarifies. “Whatever you want to do, but I just,” he clears his throat, moves his arms away and uncovers himself. 

Derek knows where this is going, and even as the wave of fear hits him, his blood rushes south.

“I just wanted to put it out there that I really want you to fuck me.” 

Derek’s chest constricts, and he swallows tightly. 

“I was fingering myself before you got here,” Stiles tells him.

“God damn it, Stiles,” Derek retorts, closing his eyes, but he sounds anything but admonishing. The anxiety is gone from Stiles’ scent and when he opens his eyes Stiles is grinning at him. 

Derek slides closer, until he can wrap a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and pull him in for a kiss. 

The kiss goes on for a long while before Derek pulls back and stares down at where Stiles is holding his half hard cock. Stiles holds Derek’s face in both hands and kisses him. He climbs into Derek’s lap, at the edge of the bed, and Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ naked back. 

“I slept with Braeden,” Derek tells him. Stiles tenses around him.

“Yeah, obviously,” Stiles says voice hard.

“I just, thought you should know, if we were–” Derek starts. Stiles’ muscles loosen and he kisses Derek. “I’m sorry,” Derek apologizes.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Derek,” Stiles sighs. “I’m just bitter.” 

“About what?” Derek asks, his mouth is dry. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “She was with you when you died.” Derek swallows around the lump in his throat and watches Stiles’ evading eyes fill with tears. 

“I got better,” is all Derek thinks to say. Stiles smirks, tries to temper it behind a frown and his face twitches. Derek stands, Stiles clinging as he’s lifted. He lays him down on the bed and kisses him softly, like Stiles might break beneath him, or turn suddenly to ash and be gone.

Stiles watches as Derek strips his clothes off. They kiss for a long time, Stiles laid out against the pillows under Derek. He fingers Stiles, sucks his dick before crawling back up to bite and nip at the underside of Stiles’ jaw, down his collarbone. 

Stiles hands him the lube and Derek raises a brow. “Bareback,” Stiles answers, “if you’re down?” Derek just nods.

Stiles’ pale thighs tremble as Derek pushes them further apart. He grinds against him, letting the head of his cock drag against Stiles’ hole. He slips the tip in a few times and Stiles whimpers.

It’s a little surreal, Derek thinks, when he’s finally inside Stiles. 

“You can move now,” Stiles says, his hands sliding up from where they’re braced against Derek’s thighs. Derek obeys, gratified by the way Stiles’ moans get higher and more desperate. 

“God, you’re so much better than a vibrator,” Stiles groans. Derek huffs a laugh into the corner of Stiles’ mouth and thrusts hard and deep, “fuckyeah.” 

Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s thighs and squeezes before he starts fucking himself on Derek’s dick. Derek watches, breathing heavy on stuttered moans. 

“Could you come inside me?” Stiles asks, staring up at Derek, skin flushed and slick with sweat. 

“Stiles,” Derek moans in answer, feels himself getting close. Stiles is jerking himself off now, and it’s only a moment later that he comes, with a litany of curses chased by a satisfied grin. He clenches around Derek’s cock and Derek thrusts once before he’s spilling into Stiles, collapsing on top of him as he rides out his orgasm. 

“Fuck, dude,” Stiles pants, “Dude.”

“Stop saying dude,” Derek says, halfhearted, hips still moving in slow circles as his dick slowly softens inside him..

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles amends, “Derek.” Derek feels his cock make a valiant effort at recovery, and Stiles grins, “Derek,” he repeats. 

“You’re insufferable, Stiles,” Derek sighs, pulling out finally and collapsing on the bed next to him.

“You don’t sound like you’re suffering,” Stiles accuses, voice soft. Derek leans across the small space between them and kisses him. 

“I’m glad you called,” Derek tells him, pulling back.

“I’m glad you came,” Stiles says, cheesy grin.

“Insufferable,” Derek confirms, kissing him.

 

He tells Stiles this time, a few days after they sleep together.

“I’m thinking of going to South America, to visit Cora.” 

Stiles looks up at him from across the table, picking at the remaining fries on his plate. “Oh. When?”

“Not sure,” Derek answers, “soon though.” 

“When will you be back?” Stiles asks, he’s looking at Derek like he knows the answer. Derek isn’t sure what to say. “Oh,” Stiles says, averting his gaze. 

“I have a lot of things that I need to find out, about myself, the full shift,” Derek tries to explain.

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles tells him, looking up again. “You deserve more than Beacon Hills,” Stiles nods. He sounds sincere but Derek hears the waver, as Stiles slides out of the booth they’re in Derek sees his eyes filling.

“I need to go,” Stiles rushes. Derek doesn’t try to stop him. 

 

He knows Stiles is avoiding him, ignoring the few calls and texts he’s sent. Derek thinks it might be easier this way. The night before he’s supposed to go, he leaves a voicemail on Stiles’ phone saying goodbye. 

It’s not ten minutes later that he hears Stiles outside the loft. He hasn’t even reached the door when he hears the lock click and Stiles pulls it open. When he steps inside, Derek sees a pack slung over his shoulder. There’s a hard resolve to his features.

“Stiles,” Derek says, surprised.

“Hey,” Stiles replies, dropping the bag at his feet.

“What–” Derek starts, staring at it.

“I’m coming with you,” Stiles cuts in. 

“–Stiles, you…” he tries again head shaking, “why?” 

“Because I’m in love with you Derek, and I’m not losing you again, alright?” Stiles rolls his eyes, but his heart is beating faster and his face flushes. Derek feels his own start to match. 

Derek just stares a little dumbfounded, overwhelmed. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Look,” Stiles says, stepping closer. “You don’t to be with me, than fine. If you don’t feel the same, than I’ll leave.” 

Stiles straightens, shoulders broadening, “Just, don’t give me excuses like school or my Dad and your baggage or whatever just don’t. Because I’m tired of pretending my life is ever going to be normal.” Stiles’ eyes start to brim with tears. Derek wants so badly to reach out but he doesn’t. 

“You’re the only thing making this decision so damn hard, Stiles,” Derek says finally. “But I’m not sure I know how,” Derek tries. 

“How to what?” Stiles asks. 

“How to be with anyone,” Derek answers. He’s thought about this a lot, about what it would mean for them to actually be together. He knows they’ve been as good as for a while now, even if they never gave it a label or tried to make it into anything. 

“Welcome to the club, big guy, we should make t-shirts,” Stiles says, and he slaps a hand against Derek’s chest, smiling softly, chin trembling. Derek wants to say no, he knows he should. There’s a long pause while Stiles just stares at him.

“You’re trying to come up with a reason to tell me to go home,” Stiles says. Derek looks away. “Does that mean…” Stiles trails off, his heart skipping a beat.

Derek turns to him again, “that I’m in love with you, too?” Derek says, “yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

“Forget everything else, Derek, for like five seconds and just–” Stiles sighs, “–do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes,” Derek admits. Stiles smiles then, there are tear tracks on his cheeks catching the light. “I don’t,” Derek starts, he shakes his head, “I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“You don’t have to,” Stiles says, “I invited myself, remember?” 

Derek smirks, “I don’t know if your dad will see it that way.”

“My dad sacrificed a lot to be with my mother,” Stiles says. “If he hadn’t I wouldn’t be here, you know?” Stiles grins. “He can’t argue with that. Well, he can, but he’ll lose.”

“I have no doubt,” Derek says, voice catching in his throat.

“So,” Stiles says, “does this mean you’re not leaving me behind? We can be together?” 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Derek tells him. Stiles grins again, steps forward and barrels into him, holding him tight. 

“Hope forever works,” he says into the crook of Derek’s neck. “I’ve got plans.”

“That scares me,” Derek says with a smirk, but he wraps his arms around Stiles tightly, closes his eyes against the tears he feels threatening. “But I can’t wait.”


End file.
